Untitled
by TheMillionthMind
Summary: Just another post-apocalyptic cheese-fest for readers to enjoy. Not as proud of this one as I am my others, but feel free to enjoy anyway. Nick/Ellis slash, beware. Rated T for cursing and hints of romance between men.


((I don't really know what else to say that isn't in the description, so have a disclaimer isntead.

Disclaimer: I don't own L4D2, please don't sue me.))

The chopper rescuing the survivors from the infection had brought about many good things. First, safety. Obviously, that was number one. They were injured and bleeding and panting, but fuck it all, they were alive. None of their injuries were life-threatening (even though while running across that bridge, they were all sure that they would die—even Ellis) and soon, they'd be in a place where the wounds could be tended to properly. Yes, there was always the risk of being—as Nick had oh-so-kindly pointed out earlier—lined up against a wall and shot if they were found to be infected, but in spite of all the anxiety, the four managed to pull through just fine. Subsequently, they were carted off to be tended to in the 'medical unit' as one of the soldiers had dubbed it.

Second, food. The group had never been so thrilled to see a pot of soup in their life, and they'd devoured their first few meals with fervor the others around them hadn't been surprised to see, but chuckled and talked about nonetheless. None of the four newer survivors seemed to care. The food in front of their faces was plenty distracting.

Third, a warm bed. It hadn't been too cold in the South, considering it was only mid-October, but damn if it hadn't been uncomfortable, and there had been a few chilly (that kind of discomfort when your arms are pinpricked with goosebumps and you want to snuggle up to someone for a little extra warmth) nights. The pillows in their temporary military-issue beds (before they were to be carted off to their new home) were some lumpy standard-issue blocks of cloth and what felt like soft Styrofoam and the mattresses were loose and springy, but compared to the apocalypse, this was like sleeping on little bits of Cloud Nine, and the group found that they fell asleep almost immediately the minute their bodies hit the mattress.

The last was snow. Plodding through the southern United States had dragged the survivors through muggy days and humid rains, thick swamps and disgusting muddy water. Amongst that and all the chaos around them, the four hadn't gotten the chance to properly enjoy their surroundings. So, when the military carted them off to the northwestern United States (considering the infection had spread from the east), to the very corner of Washington, in a little mountain range, they were all mesmerized by the snow. It fell loosely and as they walked to the resort houses (which had been provided for survivors by the company that owned them) alongside the military men (Nick complained about how they got heavy uniforms and the survivors only got donated casual wear), they couldn't even hear the sounds of the snow hitting the already white blanket of a ground. It was so much more soothing than the storm they'd had to go through back in Ducatel, Mississippi.

Silently, Rochelle wondered how Virgil was doing.

The house they'd been given was huge, and the resort went for over a mile on a huge, mountainous campus, though the demand was still fairly high, so the four of them had to share one entire house. Not that they minded—the thing had three bedrooms, a massive kitchen, two bathrooms, a den, and a living room. This was _so_ much better than the crappy, dilapidated safe houses they'd been forced to sleep in. And unlike those times, they'd get to stay until the infection cleared off. The homes were fully furnished, but the couch and chairs and beds were all donated, so they weren't as spectacular as the house they were staying in, but none of them were complaining at this point.

There was no telling how long it'd take for the infection to be cleared out, but the military was trying its best to help bring back a sense of normalcy to the resort. Jobs were offered, and though the income was minimal, shoveling snow or scraping military car windows still brought in some money and income was something most people were used to (going back to it was something they all wanted). There were regular jobs, but due to the risk of infection, people weren't allowed to go past a certain distance of the resort location, so those were limited.

There was already talk of a Christmas celebration to come, as well as a toast to the New Year, though supplies for parties were minimal and people who managed to find work at real jobs (like gas stations or liquor stores, provided they weren't more than five miles from the resort houses) would probably be the only ones who could afford to throw one of their own.

It still wasn't all that normal. Sleeping was more restless, and everyone was used to doing so lightly. Rochelle, who started out with her own room, had ended up awakening in panic-induced tears, sure she was getting attacked by infected, and eventually ended up rooming with Ellis, who had been more than happy to comfort her when she needed it. Nick and Coach had taken the other bedrooms without complaint.

Coach had managed to land a job at a grocery store a mile and a half out, and after getting used to having to take a bus back and forth to work again, he started pulling in a decent income. He, Rochelle, and Ellis were already planning a get-together for Christmas.

Nick, despite the zombie apocalypse and the military everywhere in their new home, hadn't let his old habits die. He was often found grouped with people, gambling and probably not winning fairly, though he wouldn't dare admit such a thing. He wouldn't do anything that would get him into too much trouble yet, but the minute they broke out of this goddamned corner of the country, he would be back to his old self.

But for now, he was with Ellis, Coach, and Rochelle, and it wasn't so bad when he thought about the prospect of being forced to room with three other completely different people.

On the first day at their new home, Ellis had played out in the snow for hours. Being a native of Georgia, the most snow he'd seen wasn't over an inch and it melted before it could be measured. The group knew he'd be like a kid in a candy store around the stuff because of it, but that didn't stop them from giggling at him like goons when he threw a snowball at a tree and ended up with a pile of snow from one of its branches on his head. The little 'oomf' sound the mechanic made had everyone laughing harder.

Ellis merely cursed a few times, then went back to playing around. He wore nothing but a jacket, gloves, jeans and some rain boots (donated clothing), but he didn't seem to care. His nose and cheeks were bright red and his ears looked like they were getting the same way, but he wasn't the least bit fazed by it. In fact, the other three had been so amazed by his enthusiasm that they too had decided to join in. Rochelle and Ellis had a snowball fight, and with a few 'accidental' hits by snowballs, Coach and Nick ended up caught in the mess, too. The con-man and Coach formed a 'team' to combat the two, and Rochelle and Ellis eventually caught on, following suit.

The jeers and screams of most of the group could be heard, reverberating through the trees and mountains, and when other people started joining in was when Nick stepped out. Ellis did the same soon enough, hiking his legs up out of the snow like a cat with sandbags tied around its feet. Nick laughed outwardly—over-exaggerated because Ellis was close enough to hear—at the sight.

"It ain't funny, Nick." Ellis' southern drawl put a heavy amount of emphasis on Nick's name and the con-man hadn't yet gotten used to that. He cringed. "I'm so cold I could—"

"—Shit a frozen worm?" Nick interrupted, cocking his lips in a smug manner.

"It's 'squealin'.'" Ellis corrected, brushing the snow off his gloves, but to no avail. They were soaked through from his body heat, so he just tugged them off and crammed them into his jacket pocket. "And I wasn't gonna say that."

"Oh." Nick didn't seem all that apologetic about it, but the mechanic wasn't surprised.

It was interesting, the relationships the survivors had formed during their escape. Ellis was the annoying chatterbox of a fun-loving, well-behaved, zombie-killing southern boy, and everyone had their different impressions about him. Rochelle seemed to have a slight interest in the stories, though during the zombie apocalypse, there really was no time for Keith stories, so she'd had to hush him up every time. Coach shut the boy up quickly and usually before everyone else, because goddammit, they really didn't have time for it. And Nick. Well, Nick didn't give two shits. Let the kid talk. So long as he didn't get in the con-man's way or try telling him a story while they were fighting a Tank, he was good.

Rochelle wasn't really a mother figure, considering her own slight lack of maturity. There had been many times she and Ellis had enjoyed themselves together. The kid had spawned some interesting cheering matches between himself and Rochelle. Coach could tell all the girl wanted was to enjoy herself in what was most definitely the least-enjoyable experience in her life. Nick. Well, he didn't care this time around, either. Let Rochelle be Rochelle, that was how he thought of it. At least she didn't have 'BFF' stories, and she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut when fighting off hordes of zombies.

Coach was the father of the group. He repeatedly called Ellis and Nick 'son' or 'boy' and Rochelle was either 'Ro' or 'girl', and he had always had their backs. Even in times when the other three would be too scared to leave and help another of their group, Coach was out there and seizing them to bring them back to the safe room. It was obvious they all appreciated them. Even Nick, who buried his admiration underneath various comments about donuts and cheeseburgers and general obesity.

And Nick. He might have started off as the brooding asshole with an attitude problem, but it was obvious to everyone that they'd grown on him since the time they'd introduced themselves in the burning hotel elevator. He'd saved their asses countless times and knew what they were worth to him. And then there was that whole 'love' thing. Not that lovey-dovey 'I want you in my life forever' kind of love, but the kind where if one of them were to die, the con-man might actually be genuinely hurt about it.

They'd become some interesting, dysfunctional family and they all knew how much they relied on each other now.

Nick turned his attention to Ellis. The boy was blowing into his hands, then cramming them into his pockets and amusing himself by the sight of his own breath in the cold weather.

"This snow's awesome, man." The mechanic spoke as if on cue. "But it's damn cold. I'm ready for some hot chocolate or somethin'."

"I'm up for that." Nick agreed, and the two men turned and walked side-by-side back to their home, hands in their pockets.

The relationship between Nick and Ellis—now, _that _was one the con-man didn't quite understand. Sometimes, the kid just drove him flat-out batshit insane (usually when he tried to exchange stories at inconvenient times, but he always shut up on cue, so that at least soothed the situation), and others, he was just hilarious. Nick thought he hated Ellis at first, but the kid was actually pretty damned useful. He was willing to step out onto the plate (of course, not before hollering out to the zombies or cheering about running a coaster) and get a difficult task out of the way, and both men had a way of having each other's backs in rough situations.

And then there was the whole behind-closed-doors thing. Neither Nick nor Ellis really knew how that had started. Hell, Nick wasn't even sure if it was himself or the mechanic who had kissed the other the first time. They'd both ended up in the back room of a safe house, clawing and kissing and tugging at each other. Ellis was probably turned on by the zombies or some gross shit like that, and seeing that sultry look on the kid's face had won Nick over. It had been a blur, how they'd come together, still injured and bleeding, and done things that the infection swarming around them really didn't leave time for.

But ever since, they'd come to each other and done it again when they felt it was needed. Nick's clothes had been a little too hot one time, he remembered, and he'd cornered Ellis in a bathroom in one of the saferooms of New Orleans. Of course, the obedient little southern boy had been more than happy to put out.

It wasn't love, by any means. They'd just been turned on at the most wrong of times and desperate to feel something other than the muddy, blood-covered hands of zombies or the angry fist of a charger.

That theory didn't explain just how intoxicated the two were around each other, but they wouldn't even _begin_ to dabble in those thoughts. The last thing Coach and Rochelle needed was two men freaking out and dwelling on their own sexuality.

It was odd how simply pushing away any thoughts of a relationship seemed to hold both men in a stagnant vicegrip of calmness and understanding. All they were doing was having hot chocolate, after all.

Sitting at the bar that divided the kitchen and living room, Ellis and Nick sipped their hot chocolate, watching the snowball fight that still took place, despite the darkening sky and approaching nighttime. Faintly, they could hear the cheering of Rochelle and one of Coach's curses before some kid yelped after being hit with a snowball.

"My shirt's _drenched._" Ellis commented, shuddering lightly, even though the warm air of their heated home made things more comfortable. He sipped on his drink and it warmed his throat and chest, and he couldn't help but grin from ear to ear.

Nick had been on the verge of suggesting Ellis go change the shirt like the boy should have already thought of, but the massive lopsided smile on the kid's face caught him off guard.

"What?" The con-man's expression flattened in confusion.

Ellis held up his hot chocolate like it was some sort of prize. "This stuff." He said simply. "Now I get what they mean when they say it warms your heart."

"Well, damn. So it wasn't me having that effect?"

Nick froze. That was _not_ supposed to come off as a flirt. But it did, and Ellis even blushed. Or maybe that was the hot chocolate. The con-man wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to think, and he immediately grumbled. "Don't take that wrong, Overalls."

Ellis was dense as all getout. The whole incident with their zombie helicopter pilot had proven that with flying colors. Or maybe he was just a little too good-natured. Either way, the mechanic's next comment nearly made the con-man choke on his hot chocolate, which would have been_ very_ unpleasant and the boy would've had to be punched for causing it.

"But you hesitated." The way it was spoken was with that air of immaturity, but Nick hadn't prepared himself for Ellis to display some form of intelligence (even though they all knew the kid was just fun-loving and it came off as dumb), much less put off that he could see right through a goddamned con-man.

"Forget it." Nick grumbled and his hand immediately reached up to the bridge of his nose. "Just drop it." Because shit on a fucking biscuit, he'd been trying so goddamned hard to avoid something like this.

Ellis scrunched up his nose and did something with his lips that was probably supposed to be a frown, but it was hard to tell when it came from a person who was usually whooping and hollering and grinning about how his buddy Keith drove off a bridge and broke both of his legs or something. But he eventually just took another drink of his hot chocolate and shrugged, answering, "Okay," before bringing his attention out to the group outside. It was dwindling, and he could see Coach and Rochelle making their way back.

The thing was, Nick really didn't mind Ellis. Well, the kid _did_ drive him nuts sometimes, but after dealing with all the craziest stories and jeers and childish behavior during their escape, he was sure he could handle the mechanic afterward.

It was the prospect of a _relationship_ that terrified the older man. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a relationship (Cookie didn't count, because he couldn't stand that woman anyway). He'd been a loner since he could remember, and he _liked_ it. He didn't want to go through the whole spiel of trying to make someone happy again, especially when his only talent was making sure _he_ was okay. Look out for number one, after all.

……………………………………………

The next several days passed by quickly. Nick made fifty bucks on someone one day and a hundred on the same guy the next. Coach worked. Rochelle and Ellis cooked and did laundry together (Nick walked in on them dancing to 'Shout at the Devil' with makeshift broom guitars, listening to a little radio). Life started to happen somewhat like it was _supposed_ to and things seemed a little closer to normal every day.

A week in, Ellis got a job at a gas station, and even though it wasn't fixing cars like he was used to, it still brought in a small paycheck (money was tight when it wasn't circulating like it should have) and he often came home with a big smile on his face. He loved the interaction, and the customers actually _listened_ to his stories.

They hadn't found Keith, yet. Ellis and Coach asked often about the guy when working, and they were all (yes, even Nick) a little disappointed to see the mechanic come in with that sad look on his face that proclaimed he hadn't found his friend yet.

Keith must've been one hell of a guy to have a person like Ellis distraught over not finding him.

Either way, they all resolved to keep trying and Rochelle gave Ellis a glass of water and talked to him for a while, and he was back to smiling and telling stories like before.

They were all amazed to hear how the goat mixed in with the stock car story. Nick even yowled, "Oh, come _on_!" And stormed up to his bedroom.

………………………………………….

Nick made it a point to hold Ellis back. Their Christmas had been awkward and overly quiet. Nick hadn't wanted to be there in the first place, but Rochelle and Ellis had convinced him to do so anyway. Problem was, ever since the night Nick and Ellis had sipped hot chocolate after that snowball fight, the mechanic had been adamant to try and involve himself more in the con-man's life. It was obvious he'd enjoyed their encounters during the infection. Hell, Nick had liked them too, but it just wasn't his style to go out on a limb and actually _be_ with someone. It was difficult to get this across to a kid like Ellis, though.

The group had exchanged presents—mostly liquor since there wasn't much else to buy around here, but Coach got chocolate from Nick and managed to ignore the look on the con-man's face as he thanked him—then drank, and Nick had managed to step out before he'd been offered any liquor. As much as he liked it, he just wasn't in the Christmas spirit and decided to take a shower instead.

Ellis had chosen to stand at the door, hollering through the shower spray that he should come back down. Nick merely turned the spray hotter to ignore the mechanic. But by the time his body was bright pink from the water and he was choking on the steam, he decided to step out and tell the boy to get the fuck away.

His mistake had been not being dressed. Nick had been frustrated to the point of storming out of the shower, sopping wet and stark naked, and immediately upon slamming the bathroom door open, Ellis' jaw had dropped, and the con-man knew it was all downhill from there.

"Christ in a handbasket, Nick…" The boy had groaned and Nick could practically see the saliva collecting in his gaping mouth.

"Aren't you supposed to be drinking yourself silly right now or something?" Nick had bothered to question, an attempt to deflect the situation from where it was obviously going.

Ellis glanced briefly down the hallway, then shrugged. "I kinda wanted all of us to be there…"

Nick rolled his eyes. "You know me, Overalls. Partying isn't my thing."

"But it's Christmas…" Ellis looked confused and almost hurt by the comment. He just couldn't get his mind around how someone wouldn't want to spend their Christmas with their newfound family. Problem was, Nick had had his fair share of Christmases spent in a dark room, alone, not-so-cheap wine being the Christmas gift to himself. He was perfectly content with doing it again.

There was a moment of silence that passed between the two men, and perhaps Nick shouldn't have let it be that way. Especially since the air had cooled his shower-heated skin and he was starting to get cold. But more importantly, Ellis had chosen the moment to make his move. His hands were warm against the con-man's cooling skin and the older man couldn't help but let out a low, guttural noise that was almost a groan but he was trying so hard for it _not_ to be.

Nick's back came in contact with the wall in between the shower and toilet and it was cold from the steam that had been cooled by the air, and he shuddered on impulse.

"Ellis, stop—" The con-man tried before lips were against his own, body pinned against his.

Fuck, how he _loved_ that taste. Ellis' lips were plump and pretty and felt so goddamned _soft_ against his, but didn't the boy understand that he was against this for a reason? His lips twitched against the mechanic's, but he eventually managed to pull the kid back, an expression somewhere between exasperation and regret on the con-man's face.

"Stop." Nick repeated, gaze fixed somewhere behind Ellis.

"Okay." Ellis answered, but not in the usual, 'whatever' tone of voice. He stepped back and nodded a few times, as if to clarify what had just happened in his head, then turned and went out the door.

Things went downhill from there.

* * *

Two days after Christmas, life had gotten just a little more normal. Rochelle found herself a job at a local radio station. It wasn't exactly her field of work, but being a deejay wasn't too bad, either. Her first day was on the twenty-seventh, and the survivors with radios in their possession cheered to her when they spotted her on the streets. It wasn't the big break the girl had been going for, but honestly, could she really say it was so bad in this post-apocalyptic mess they'd all gotten themselves into?

Ellis, after dropping his focus on Nick (though the con-man still caught strange glances from the boy), had turned his attention fully to locating Keith. He begged and pleaded for Rochelle to make an announcement over the radio about him, and she begged and pleaded her boss to allow it, and when she'd finally gotten the chance to do so, she did, and nothing came up. They waited days, and by New Year's Eve, there was still no trace of him.

Ellis was quieter than usual that night. Even Nick had purchased some booze to toast the New Year in with, and it almost seemed uncharacteristic for both men to have switched moods completely.

Didn't matter, because Rochelle picked up some beer to cheer the mechanic up with.

"He's not gonna want you to sit here and sulk, boy." Coach had suggested gruffly, sitting on the couch with Rochelle, Ellis, and Nick. Nick had already cracked open his wine bottle and was taking small drinks on it. It was only nine thirty, so he'd hold off on the major drinking until later, but that didn't stop him from having a little sip or two.

"I know." Ellis answered. "Doesn't stop me from missin' him, though…"

"Of course, baby…" Rochelle said with a nod, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We'll just have to party enough for Keith too, how about that?"

Ellis seemed to like that idea, and he nodded, blinking his eyes a few times, and then he was cracking open his own beer.

The next half hour of the party went fairly smoothly. Ellis and Rochelle giggled and chattered while Nick (sort of) listened to several stories Coach had to exchange. The radio played some sort of poppy jingle music that Rochelle and Ellis found catchy, and even Coach started to enjoy it. Nick merely took another drink on his wine.

Rochelle didn't like that Nick and Ellis sat at opposite ends of the couch. She frowned at both of them, and mouthed 'what's going on?' to Nick, who shrugged, because honestly, he didn't understand what she wanted to know. She didn't seem satisfied with that, and got to her feet.

"Nick and I are gonna talk in private real quick." She told the other two, and when both shrugged and didn't seem to mind, she seized the con-man by the upper arm and tugged him back and into one of the hallways. Nick didn't seem to mind, placing his wine bottle on an end table just before he was pulled out of the main room.

"What'd you do to him?" She questioned harshly, arms crossed.

"What?" Nick rolled his eyes and frowned. "I didn't do anything. Why are you so keen to point the blame at me?"

"Because you're an ass and he's not." She answered plainly, and Nick scoffed—it was true. He knew that. "He's usually all over you with stories and questions, and it's New Year's Eve, dammit!"

"I didn't do anything. Christ." Nick repeated. It wasn't fun being cornered. "He's just all pissy because I'm not screwing around with him anymore."

Rochelle didn't answer—merely raised her eyebrows and waited for more. She already knew the mechanic and con-man had had their moments together—she and Coach both knew, just preferred not to discuss it—and to be honest, she was still waiting on an explanation.

Nick sighed in understanding. "He's different than me, Ro. You know that. He's sentimental and clingy and actually enjoys being in the middle of things. When we screwed back then, I did it because I was turned-on. I guess he did it because he liked me."

Rochelle tilted her head and scowled. "You tell me you're using that boy and I will go back into the infection and feed you to the zombies myself, you hear me?"

"I'm not using him." Nick groaned, tilting his head back and letting it come in contact with the wall behind him. "In fact, I'm trying to get him off my ass so he doesn't get attached."

"And you're not attached to him?" The woman before him questioned. There was something in Nick's expression even _he_ wasn't aware of that Rochelle could see straight through. It was empowering, and she almost contemplated picking on him for it.

"No."

"You're not attached to any of us?"

"No."

"You're so full of shit it's coming out your ears, Nick." The woman shot back, tugging at her tied-back hair absentmindedly as she spoke. The anger had dissipated and there was just smugness on her face.

"Whatever." Nick rolled his eyes. "Think what you want to think." He made to walk away, but Rochelle caught him by the forearm and drew herself closer.

"Just talk to him or something, okay?" She pleaded. "Keith's not here and he's a little upset, and the one person he'd like to talk to is you, Nick."

"Fine. Just let me go, you damned harpy." Rochelle laughed aloud and released him and Nick stormed back to his wine glass, taking a massive gulp on it. Once he finished, he made his way to Ellis, who had been busy chattering with Coach, and seized the boy, making to tug him upward and to his feet. He ignored Rochelle's glare as he motioned for the kid to follow him into the same hallway he'd just left. He had a feeling this hallway would be dubbed the 'we have to talk' hallway or something. Of course, it was out of the living room and toward the back of the house, so it made some sense, since no one else could hear what was being said.

Ellis had cursed the entire way there, and didn't stop when Nick finally released him. But the con-man could faintly hear Coach bellow from the main room, "I ain't gettin' a turn too, I hope y'all know that!" He scoffed, then returned his attention to the mechanic, who was glaring at him.

"Shit, man! What're you bein' all grabby for?"

"Blame Rochelle," Nick started with a shrug and an impatient look on his face, "because she wants me to talk to you."

"I don't see why she deserves any blame for that, but I don't reckon I'll ever understand you, Nick." The words were spoken in a way that made even Nick wince. It wasn't uncalled for or anything, but coming from a person like Ellis, who was so lighthearted all the time, it burned a little more.

"You're one to talk." Nick hissed back, but he didn't give Ellis a chance to respond. Instead, he continued, "Listen. I'm sorry your crazy friend couldn't be here. Better?"

It was Ellis' turn to wince, and the older man watched with an expression of almost-pity on his face.

"It ain't about that, Nick." He said, then recoiled as if he'd just been struck by someone. "I mean, it is, but it ain't. I miss Keith an' all, but that ain't why…well, you an' me…it ain't why we ain't talked, is it?"

"No." Nick agreed. "We both know." Frankly, he'd hoped it'd stay that way, but there was a part of him—one he wasn't too pleased with—that agreed with Rochelle. Things were awkward without Keith stories.

The hallway went silent, and both men contemplated just going back to the main room. They'd still be at opposite ends of the couch and they'd still be as quiet as they had been, but at this point, it almost seemed like that was how it was meant to be. Like everything that had happened between them during the infection was just as Nick was hoping—a fluke.

"Why can't I get close to you anymore?" The question sounded like something directly out of some cheesy love story and Nick almost scoffed when Ellis asked it. But the thought of Rochelle's wrath (women could be so scary sometimes) kept him quiet.

"Is that what you see it as?" The con-man decided to question. "It's not just a quickie, a good fuck so the tension's gone?"

Ellis' eyes narrowed. "That ain't right."

Nick crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall behind him. "You're forgetting just who it was you were screwing around with, Overalls."

"Yer such a hypocrite." Ellis said calmly—so calmly, in fact, that it kind of pissed Nick off. "You were all about makin' sure none of us got to know you so you could jet the minute we got outta that mess, an' then you go and start messin' around with me."

"Now, hold on a second." Nick frowned. "I didn't see you stopping me." He silently wondered if he'd have stopped if Ellis had pushed him away, but didn't dwell on it long. It was making him sick to the very pit of his stomach.

Ellis shook his head. "That ain't the point. An' then, you don't leave when we get here—"

"I didn't have a goddamn choice!"

"—An' you didn't start gettin' all lonely and shit until that one time on Christmas—"

"Don't you get it?" Nick was getting impatient. He pushed back off the wall he'd been leaning against and approached the younger man. "I'm a drifter! I don't stay in one place for long enough to get attached to someone! I'm better off on my own! I make my own money and live my own life and it was all just fine and dandy until the zombies—and you guys—had to fucking _ruin_ it!"

Ellis cringed visibly and glared down at the hardwood floor beneath him. For nearly half a minute, they stayed like that. Nick stood not even a foot away from the mechanic and Ellis didn't look up to meet his gaze. Instead, he spoke, "You know that's bullshit."

"What do you know?" Nick growled back.

Ellis still didn't look up. He was a bit unnerved, considering they were close enough that he could feel the con-man's body heat dancing lightly against his skin, and he knew that if he were to look up, more shit would just hit the fan.

"I know that yer only human." Ellis finally answered, and Nick was a little surprised by the maturity in the statement. Of course, he wouldn't retract his 'five-year-old' comment by any means. "You have yer needs, an' I reckon that's why you let me in like you did before, but I don't see why now's any different."

Nick sighed and almost felt a little bad, stepping back a foot or so. "Because now, there's potential for an actual relationship." He answered honestly. "I don't know if the term 'ex-wife' means anything to you, sport, but it's proof enough to me that I don't need a relationship."

"That's a right stupid excuse."

"I wish you'd stop acting like you actually know me." Nick shot Ellis a glare. "All you've witnessed was me shooting zombies, trying to get the hell out of here, and maybe saving your asses in the process. I don't get why you had to go and get all close to _me_ of all people, anyway."

Ellis laughed. "It's funny how things work that way, ain't it?"

Nick turned to face him, and nearly recoiled at the sight. The kid was grinning at him. It was one of those massive, shit-eating grins that he wore when plowing through zombies with a chainsaw, and like many times before, his shirt was suddenly ten times too hot, and he bit his lip.

"That's not fair." The con-man eventually responded, stepping back because he knew things were starting to go in the direction he'd been trying desperately for them not to.

"It's New Year's Eve." Ellis reminded, hands at his sides, body radiating pure calm, though Nick could tell (it was his nature to see through things, after all) that the boy was a little more excited than he let on. He could practically see the whooping and hollering, and the con-man's groin tingled at the thought. "It ain't gonna hurt to celebrate a little."

"Now, you're the hypocrite." Nick warned, just as he found his back against the wall, lips and Ellis' whole goddamned body pressed flush against his. A knee went beneath the con-man's thighs and he arched into it instinctively.

"I knew you still liked me." Ellis stated smugly. Nick's body still did, at least. Mental convincing would be a little harder, the southerner figured, but for now, he could deal with contact. Simple, human contact.

Nick knew he should've shoved the kid back. He knew he should've stopped things while he could. But he also knew that his skin shivered against the other's and his body wanted more, and his mind eventually succumbed, hushing up for the next five, or ten, or however-the-fuck-long this was going to take, and his arms finally slid around the mechanic's waist, drawing him in.

The only bedroom downstairs was Coach's, so they stuck with the hallway. They knew they shouldn't have done it right there, in what was prospectively going to be the 'we have to talk' hallway, but at this point, there was no stopping them. And when they finally emerged, sweaty and disheveled, Coach and Rochelle both groaned aloud.

"That _so_ could've waited." Rochelle stated plainly, shaking her head.

"You started it, Ro." Nick joked and grabbed his wine bottle once more. Coach got off the couch. Ellis sat in between Nick and Rochelle. He was positively beaming.

They listened to the radio and watched the clock for the next couple of hours. Ten thirty passed quickly enough, and before they knew it, it was eleven. And then eleven thirty. By the time eleven forty-five came, they were all a little tipsy. Rochelle and Ellis giggled and joked even more than usual, hunched over each other and convulsing in laughter at the way Nick's voice slurred, lips redder than usual from the wine.

Nick wasn't one to spend a lot of time in family get-togethers, but at this point, there was no stopping him. He was drunk on red wine and everyone else was drunker than he was and goddammit, it was actually kind of funny.

"You guys don't sound much better." He said. "I'd love to see Overalls try and tell a story now."

Ellis giggled and sat up, pulling back from Rochelle. His palms were out, hands held up at chest level, in some sort of drunken Story Telling Mode. "Okay, okay. Once upon a time—"

Rochelle burst into laughter, and then added through giggles, "There was a beautiful princess, the fairest in the land—"

"—Who had a jerkass Mom—" Nick added.

Coach joined in from the kitchen. "So she got all pissed off at her and asked her fairy godmother to turn her momma into a lizard—"

"But here's the catch." Rochelle added once more. "The princess was afraid of lizards."

The story twisted and turned to the point where it didn't make any sense whatsoever. But five minutes to midnight, the princess had grown ugly boils and her boyfriend didn't like her anymore for it, and the lizard-momma had become a dragon-momma with the ability to vomit sunshine. Even Coach was practically roaring in laughter.

Two minutes to the New Year and everyone had finally given up on the story, instead listening to the countdown on the radio.

"Y'reckon they still drop the ball?" Ellis questioned at one and a half minutes to midnight.

"I dunno." Rochelle wondered with a shrug. "I mean, a lot of places are in real bad shape right now…"

A minute to midnight and everyone was still silent. Coach broke it by batting everyone over the head, except for Rochelle. It wasn't nice to hit a woman.

"Get ready to toast in the New Year, y'all!" He demanded.

Nick looked at his wine bottle, as if debating if he could really handle more. Either way, he shrugged and took another drink on it.

"Not now, boy!" Coach rolled his eyes, and there was amusement on his expression.

Thirty seconds. Ellis and Rochelle started counting down aloud. Coach joined in at the fifteen second mark. Nick did too…mentally. Well, until the five second mark. And then he lazily counted down along with them.

Ellis and Rochelle screamed when the countdown ended, then burst into laughter again. They all took one last drink on their beverages.

For a post-apocalyptic New Year celebration, it wasn't so bad. But by half-past midnight, Ellis was already shooting Nick looks, and the con-man knew what was coming next. They clambered up the stairs to Nick's room, stumbling over each other (Nick would blame it on the booze in the morning), and practically tripped into his room. The bed was a few feet away, but they fell onto the floor and that was just fine.

Just for New Year's, this was alright. But (again, which Nick blamed on the alcohol) that didn't stop Nick from contemplating other ways he could make the younger man writhe beneath him.

Well, shit.


End file.
